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The Independent
22-03-2025
- Entertainment
- The Independent
Writing a book was meant to be a dream – but publishing it turned into a nightmare
A s a new author, you tend to be warned by published friends that your publication day will feel like a letdown. In the case of my anthology about infertility grief, No One Talks About This Stuff , which was published a year ago yesterday, I wasn't prepared for just how much of a letdown it would become. That's because my cherished book was published by Unbound, the crowdfunding publisher founded in 2010 by John Mitchinson, Justin Pollard and Dan Kieran, which went into administration this week after months of unsettled payments. As one of its authors told me drily, 'It has at times felt to me like their royalty statements are just another of the many works of fiction they have published.' I launched the crowdfunding for No One Talks About This Stuff in mid-December 2021 and it was fully funded in April 2022. I was delighted to work with Unbound, whose authors include Terry Jones, Jonathan Meades, Jim Moir and Jackie Morris. It published Nikesh Shukla's 2016 anthology The Good Immigrant , which I had backed (and which received a five-star rave review in this very paper). I chose Unbound as my publisher, in part, because it had a spirited history of publishing niche work that might otherwise struggle to find a home in the traditional press. My book was a collection of new writing about infertility grief, from people from all backgrounds, parents and non-parents. I thought of it as a 'support group in a book' and it was directly inspired by the dull, unacknowledged pain that I felt as someone without children, following failed IVF. I was probably still mad with grief – what sane person crowdfunds £20,000 to publish a book, for heaven's sake? – but I really wanted to help people – and to fill a place on the bookshelf so that anyone suffering could walk into a shop and feel understood. And, by going with Unbound, I was free to include stories that hadn't been heard before rather than lean on the familiar names that a traditional publisher might require. Unbound's titles got good spots in bookshops and were shortlisted for prizes – one was even nominated for the Booker. All was as it should be. I threw a party for No One Talks About This Stuff , paid for and organised by me – as so many authors do, contrary to what we'd believe on Instagram. I ran an extra Instagram account to keep supporters engaged and used my social media accounts to keep the book current. I pitched to book festivals, features, and podcasts for coverage. Months previously, I had asked whether I should tee up a bookshop to sell my books at the launch, as is custom. Unbound told me, no, they would handle the sales, so we could 'keep more of the money'. Six minutes before the party was due to start – and I am not joking for emphasis, by the way, I checked – I got an email from Unbound saying they were unable to provide any books to sell at all. The author (back row, centre) and contributors to her anthology 'No One Talks About This Stuff' (Kat Brown) A junior staff member who had started at the company a few months earlier was the sole attendee from Unbound and had to give a speech about a book she knew nothing about to an author who was seething with frustration. With my other launch through a different publisher a month earlier, my editor, publicist and even the managing editor all came – as did the books. A week after the book-less launch party, I went on Woman's Hour with Dr Rageshri Dhairyawan, one of my excellent contributors. It was a specific invitation from Emma Barnett, who has been a great support both of me and the book, for her final episode. Yet there were no copies of my book available to order other than via Amazon. The then CEO, Wil Harris, had the gall to suggest to me that I should be glad my book was available on Amazon. Yet the point of going with Unbound was so that I didn't self-publish, and so people going through the horrors of infertility grief could find the bloody book in shops and feel a bit more dignified about the whole thing. I went with Unbound in good faith. Thanks to the more than 700 people who believed in the book, too, I crowdfunded more than £20,000 to make it happen and to help support others going through a horrific experience. Every other author did the same – yet the company has now gone into administration. Unbound has promised in a statement that 'all monies owed to authors by Unbound will be honoured by Boundless IP Limited' and blamed its financial difficulties on a 'substantial investment' falling through in December, in an email sent to contributors in January. However, I'm in a WhatsApp group now, filled with unhappy, unpaid Unbound authors. We feel it is Unbound in all but name and, by going into administration, apparently free of its financial commitments to authors and shareholders. It beggars belief. It also feels deeply unfair to those authors who will now no longer see their books published. As other Unbound authors have done, including Tom Cox, I am in the process of requesting my rights back from the publisher as I have no faith in them. Publishing is already a difficult game. I'm in no confusion about that. Perhaps the Unbound of a decade ago was naive in thinking it could disrupt the industry. For those authors working with vulnerable communities, it is sobering and deeply upsetting. It doesn't change the pride and esteem in which we hold our books: but my word, it leaves a nasty taste. I felt ashamed of not being able to have children. Making this book was my way of creating something good and useful out of a rotten situation. My experience with Unbound has resurrected those shameful feelings – and compounded them into something even more devastating. The Independent has approached Unbound for comment Kat Brown is a British journalist, author of the guide to adult ADHD, 'It's Not a Bloody Trend' , and editor of infertility anthology 'No One Talks About This Stuff'
Telegraph
30-01-2025
- Business
- Telegraph
The £1.3m failed attempt to impose DEI on the publishing industry
It seemed a laudable enough aim. When The Good Literary Agency was launched in late 2017 with more than £500,000 of funding from Arts Council England (ACE), its mission was to identify exceptional writers who identified as black and minority ethnic, working class, disabled or LGBTQ, nurturing their work and ultimately getting them book deals. Certainly its two founders, author Nikesh Shukla – who edited the 2016 groundbreaking essay collection The Good Immigrant , featuring the likes of Riz Ahmed and Nish Kumar – and literary agent Julia Kingsford, seemed to have the necessary credentials. Then ACE literature director Sarah Crown described the duo as 'ideally placed to make a direct and meaningful intervention in this area.' 'We are glad to be able to support them as they go forward,' she added. And yet, seven years and £1.28 million of allocated public money later, The Good Literary Agency has announced 'with great sadness' that it has made the decision to close at the end of March. All staff are being made redundant, the future of all their authors and agents is up in the air. Put simply, despite vast grants being handed out to TGLA – two awards totalling £379,959 were made in 2021 and it won NPO (National Portfolio Organisation) status in 2023, meaning it would receive £152,542 annually until 2026 – Shukla and Kingsford still couldn't make their idea work as a viable business. Some commentators, such as philosopher and writer Kathleen Stock, have suggested that virtue signalling, holier-than-thou brands will always struggle. 'Perhaps they told themselves that the branding would hover playfully between 'we are good at our job' and 'we are good people', but the accompanying piety seems to have eliminated useful ambiguity from the start,' she writes. Instead of actually being a good business, then, TGLA concentrated primarily on being 'Good' – as Stock puts it – 'with a luminous capital G, putting the gospel of diversity and inclusion into practice.' Just the name, on its own, was ill-advised, she added. 'Calling a business 'The Good Literary Agency' [was] a strategy surely so hubristic that they were bound to come a cropper eventually.' Ask Arts Council England about the demise of TGLA, though, and they maintain that almost £1.3 million was money well-spent, even if the agency itself is no more. 'The Good Literary Agency has made a valuable contribution to the cultural sector, platforming The Telegraph . That much is true: in the past seven years, TGLA has represented more than 200 authors and developed publishing deals for over 100 – some of whom, such as Young Adult author The Telegraph but in some cases written for the paper too. ACE also points out that TGLA sent six agents into the mainstream publishing industry, one of whom has been shortlisted for Literary Agent of the Year. 'The impact of these significant achievements will be felt across the sector, and by the public, for many years to come,' said the spokesperson. However, critics say this could all have happened without the lavishly funded TGLA. It's fair to point out that as a Community Interest Company (CIC), directors Shukla and Kingsford have only been paying themselves £30,000 annually between them – they have been, er, 'good' in that regard. But it was a line in TGLA's farewell statement – they declined to talk to The Telegraph directly – which really struck at the heart of this issue. 'We have been feeling the effects of investment in authors becoming more and more stretched and squeezed each year we've been operating and thus decreasing what we have been able to earn in commission – which we need to match ACE's funding.' Basically, a tacit admission that there was never really a sustainable model in place. In which case, how did it come to pass that ACE gave TGLA more than a million pounds? When CICs such as The Good Literary Agency apply for the annual NPO funding, they have to provide detailed business plans. In 2022, when TGLA would have made the last application, the accounts showed that the commission it received was just 16 per cent of turnover. Wages alone were triple the commission it earned. Put simply, it was nowhere near matching the Arts Council grant with its own income; the stated intention. 'We have received regular reporting from TGLA,' maintains the Arts Council spokesperson. 'Over the last several months we have come to understand that there were issues in recruiting and retaining staff. This resulted in the executive team and board deciding to wind down the company.' No wonder TGLA was having issues recruiting and retaining staff – the last accounts filed at Companies House show the Arts Council funding didn't even cover the full extent of salaries. They were in obvious trouble. But interestingly, this isn't the line that TGLA itself is peddling. It was less about staffing for them, more about the diminishing returns from commission. Frankly, TGLA has not been able to make the business work in terms of income – other than from grants – for years, and alarm bells should have been ringing at the Arts Council long before the 'last several months.' So this isn't just a story about The Good Literary Agency, but how and why Arts Council England is making its funding decisions. A startling piece of research conducted last year by arts industry journal Arts Professional and financial benchmarking company So, rather than making funding decisions to help the arts thrive, all too often it seems ACE are simply propping up what would otherwise be failing organisations or making snap decisions without proper scrutiny. Take, for example, Wednesday's By 2022, ACE had already received a complaint about the grant to Primary Event Solutions, but concluded that there had been no misuse of public funds. Then, last year, ACE admitted it would, after all, be conducting additional checks after further allegations that Primary Event Solutions was actually a security company, not an arts organisation (and in fact had changed its name from Primary Security a few months before the bid). Primary Event Solutions was wound up in 2023. Sacha Lord resigned his position last night. In The Good Literary Agency's case, it is worth going back to the original funding award back in 2017. It came after The Canelo Report commissioned by ACE, which found that a decrease in book sales, advances and the price of books, in real terms, meant that writing literary fiction, for example, was only really viable for authors 'for whom making a living [wasn't] an imperative'. 'That has an effect on the diversity of who is writing,' said Sarah Crown at the time. 'We are losing voices.' It immediately promised to support more individual authors through its grants and to prioritise its funding of diverse organisations, particularly outside London – The Good Literary Agency being based in Bristol. And hey presto, within months Sarah Crown was saying funding for TGLA represented its commitment to 'do more to promote and sustain diversity in the publishing sector in the wake of the Canelo report.' One industry insider, who doesn't want to be named, says the decision to fund TGLA was a result of 'panicked box ticking' rather than thought-out, targeted support directed to the right places. 'Was there really much more scrutiny of TGLA other than 'OK, they have diverse aims, we know Nikesh, Julia is a literary agent, they're not in London… that'll do,'?' he says. 'They would have had to present their plans to get the funding but one wonders whether the campaigning ethos of what they were trying to do meant the bar was far lower.' That sense that the whole enterprise was well-meaning but lacking in real financial rigour starts at the top; Shukla has edited and written some vital, necessary and brilliant books, but, before TGLA, had no real literary business experience. Kingsford has at least got that as a literary agent of some standing – and she has a book out later this year, written jointly with her sister, called Asperger's and Asparagus . But right from her and Shukla's very first endeavour – a crowdfunding initiative on the website Kickstarter – there was an admission that TGLA would 'depend on receiving funding from other sources.' Perhaps you can try and run a CIC in this way, but it won't be the sustainable, long-term initiative that Kingsford hoped for in 2017 when she said: 'We conceived The Good Literary Agency to blow open the pipeline for these writers and we're incredibly excited to have funding for three years to build a sustainable business that can help to finally redress this.' The argument, then, is not that diversity of voices in literature should not be promoted and funded – otherwise the likelihood of the next George Orwell or Hanif Kureishi diminishes. But there needs to be a better approach to making it happen. As for the Arts Council, it says it takes its role as custodians of public money 'very seriously and has processes in place to ensure proper use.' This, incidentally, is almost word for word the same statement it made this week about Sacha Lord's Primary Event Solutions. Only this time, it won't be asking for any money back from TGLA – in fact there's a pending final payment of £40,017. Meanwhile, writers such as Lydia Wilkins – who is disabled and for whom TGLA was a lifeline – are now not just in limbo but let down by mismanagement. 'I don't know what will happen to my manuscript next,' she wrote on Instagram. 'We don't know if our agents will jump to other firms or if we'll have another agent in place by the end of March – so it's back to the drawing board of making enquiries.'
